A/N: I got distracted again, lol…
Disclaimer: When giant cheese monters from Mars take over the world, give me a call. Freedom
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'Scattering petals of love and friendship
The maiden dashes along her chosen path
Head held high, facing the sun
Let this grand flower come into full bloom.'
-Masashi Kishimoto
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When she first felt the sensation she wasn't quite sure what to think. Her gut twisted itself into tight knots for no apparent reason-almost like she had to face a terrifying foe. Her head ached with unbidden pain and everything reeked of an ominous aura. She shivered as chills ran down her spine and forced her to cower under the bulky comforter that adorned her bed. It wasn't so much that she was sore, but that it hurt-hurt everwhere and that she couldn't care less.
She knew it would happen one day anyway and she was sick of playing the hero. Of acting brave and putting on happy smile, trying to be strong; sometimes the need to give into the pain just overrode all rational thoughts. The need to just break down and cry, to let all the troubles that filtered through her frantic life take over. For once, she didn't want to care if he thought it was weak and pathetic; he'd always believed she was anyway so why not just him live on in his viewpoint.
Her heart pounded and she clutched her chest trying to rid herself of the twinge. She glanced at the whisky bottle one more time before she took a practiced swig. The alcohol burned its way down her throat, causing her stomach to bubble when it reached its destination. It was just like her; searching for a path, burning and crying all the way. Her fogged vision lost itself in the swirls that marked the clouded glass bottle and held the bane of her existence
Viridian eyes turned to a large bay window and took in the heavens above. Oh how she wished she could be free. Run like a little child in the sky, prance between the stars, and rock her self to sleep on the crescent moon. No, she wasn't a fool and she wasn't going to kid herself. So what if her heart was breaking, cracking in two? It's not like anyone cared, there was no one there for her, there never was; not really anyway. Naruto and Sasuke had been like brother-bitter rivals, yes-but brothers none the less. Kakashi had unofficially adopted them and they got along in there own sweet way. Talking, training, fighting. It had bothered her at first, dragged her to her knees and made her sob, but she got over that. Nothing mattered anymore and she'd always been the third wheel anyway, she'd never really belong. Team 7, a three man cell, it was too true. Kakashi, Naruto, Sasuke; now that was the real Team 7, not the deluded appearance that paraded down the street everyday.
She gulped down more of the cloudy liquid as her brain grew fuzzier and her thoughts dulled. Damn this! It just wasn't fair!
Her eyes fell upon a small lacy card that had been the cause of all her problems, her suffering. A chain of slurred profanities escaped her mouth as she dumped the rest of the liquor on the parchment, effectively smudging all the curling script that stamped it. She wouldn't go. Hell, she couldn't go. She'd devoted her life to that bastard, given him everything and anything. Promised him her undying and undivided love; well, screw that. He'd proven that love didn't exist and she didn't matter that night several months ago.
She reached over and grabbed another bottle of whisky-her third that night-and popped the top with a flick of her thumb. Stupid asshole, she could still remember the night it'd happened too, it was burned in her memory much like the alcohol that burned down her throat.
The rain had been pouring from the sky, crying away the burden of unshed tears-her tears. She'd been staggering home after a successful sitting at the local bar when he'd approached. Clothes plastered to his skin, every muscle visible as they rippled beneath the black cloth. Ebony tresses framed a pale face that appeared to be carved from marble. Broad shoulders stood against a prominent chin and narrowed hips, none of these had mattered at the moment though, not that they hadn't helped of course. It had been the eyes, his eyes. The smoldering midnight gaze that could make her melt every time, that made her melt at that moment because at that very second they were trained on her. Pinning her down with such intensity that all she could do was freeze and gape in awe. Then he'd made his way over to her, each swaggering step drawn out in a pregnant silence that filled the air with so much tension she found herself suffocating. When he was finally in front of her she was gasping for breath, drowning in those dark recesses that he called eyes. He reached out a slender hand that she'd taken rather awkwardly and he'd whisked her away. Promising her everything she'd ever dreamed of, whispering sweet nothings into her ears while slamming into her with so much force she'd cried. Wiping away tears, he looked at her with such sincerity that she'd believed everything single lie that had tumbled out of his mouth with a silken ease.
When she awoken that morning she'd found the bed empty. Hurriedly taking a shower and dressing herself soon after, she skipped down the stairs in ecstasy, hoping to find every one of her wishes granted. She'd been so naïve, drunk, desperate, in love. Him? He'd just been aroused and lustful and she'd been such easy prey. A single look and she was at his beck and call, there for his every whim. She'd found that out when she'd reached the foot of the stairs, him standing there with her coat in his left hand, shoes in his right. He'd thrusted them at her with as much forced he'd used that night and pointed to the door. She'd frowned in confusion and questioned his cold demeanour; he'd shrugged carelessly and frostily told her what she knew now. Breaking down at his feet she'd cried and demanded to know how he could just use her like that. With a wave of his hand he'd mentioned something about wanting to get laid before he'd dragged her to her feet and shoved her out the door, reminding her not to let it hit her on the way out.
Fresh tears had sprung from her bottle green eyes and she'd stumbled down the front steps in both agony and pain. Half crawling, half running, she'd made her way back to her apartment and refused to leave for a week. When she'd finally emerged from hiding she'd found out something that had devastated her more than the harsh words that had been ringing in her head all week. The town was in an uproar, all of Konohagakure was whispering like giddy school girls. Prancing around excitedly, talking behind there hands, pointing and staring. When she finally found out, it had been from two gossipy old ladies who were sipping tea in the dango shop downtown.
Apparently, during her seven days of utter misery of being used like a common whore, Sasuke had had the audacity to ask Ino out. When she finally managed to track down the crook, he'd publicly humiliated her; giving the prying citizens even more rumors to feed upon. For the next several months she'd found herself the subjects of cruel gossip and the brunt of several nasty jokes. They treated her like a prostitute, glaring at her, shunning her from society. Even Kakashi and Naruto turned disapproving frowns in her direction before vacating the area with a diverted gaze and a muttered excuse.
So here she sat, all those months later following her nightly rituals of drowning her pain. Her eyes drifted down to the sopping invitation that sat dripping on her modest oak table. Throwing it a blurry-but none the less livid-glare before she downed the rest of the bottle, clouding her mind over even further.
With a very unladylike belch, the bottle plummeted from her outstretched hand and connected with the floor with an earth shattering crash. The story of my life, the fragmented thought rose to the surface of her mind and broke through her drunken state.
With a heavy sigh, she snatched the final bottle without much coordination and hefted it to her lips.
The fiery substance blazed a well beaten conduit down her inflamed esophagus and plunged to her stomach with an unsettling slosh that sent her stumbling to the bathroom with all the speed she could muster. Precariously hanging over the porcelain bowl, she wretched up a gut load of liquor before she collapsed backwards; sparkling silver tracing down flushed cheeks.
She didn't know how long she lay on the bathroom floor, drowning in her sorrows and contemplating the smudged little card that lay in a foul puddle. To be honest, she no longer cared. Why should she? Everyone else had moved on, Naruto had hooked up with Hinata, Ino with Sasuke(the stupid wedding invitation proved that all too well), Shikamaru with Temari, and Neji and Ten-Ten. Hell, even Kakashi and Anko had gotten together along with everyone else she knew. But here she lay, little Sakura, bawling in the middle of the bathroom floor. Maybe it just wasn't worth it, life…living. How nice it would be to fly away, disappear without a trace on the passing wind. How hard could it be? No one would notice her death; her parents had died three years previously in a fire while she was on a mission and her so called teammates never spared her a glance these days. She peered out the tiny window that was hovered above the toilet; the Hokage Monument was just visible in the distance. The previous protectors of the land all gazed down on the village with solemn faces. She blearily took in the face of her shishou, how she missed her. Despite her violent temper, she missed the Godaime's presence, surely if there was anyone out there who would care for her, it would have been Tsunade. But no, there had to be another tragedy in her life. She cursed the very existence of Itachi with her intoxicated mind, it was all his fault she was dead. All his goddamn fault!
She had the sudden urge to see Tsunade again, just to know that someone cared, could have cared. With a groan and a lurch, she slowly made her way to her bedroom and out the window, silently gliding from roof to roof through her long years of training, despite her drunken state.
An hour later she arrived at the top of the monument, the tears trickling down her porcelain face once again. Falling to her knees, she gazed out at the city she once loved, the one she would have once protected with her life. Now it was her own personal hell, her merciless prison. She inched forward until she was perched on the edge of the statue, blood oozing down her knees at the contact of the rough stone. She cast a bleary eye over to her left and was just able to make out Naruto's features on the stone likeness beside her.
She turned away, the pain welling up in her chest again. She wanted out; out of the shell she was forced to call a body, the only link that kept her chained to the earth. She wanted to be a star, sailing without a worry across the midnight ocean; a cloud, gaily gliding across the sky; a bird, soaring freely into the open, never having to look back. She wanted her freedom and she wanted it now.
Maybe it was the influence of the alcohol, maybe it was the sting of rejection, maybe it was the ache of betrayal. She didn't really know what forced her off her knees and over the edge. Over the edge of the stone shrine hundreds of feet in the air, over the edge of her inebriated mind, but she loved the feeling of freedom that came with it. The roaring of the wind in her ears as her cherry locks flew back in the gale that was caused as the Earth rushed up to meet her. The flying sensation that set her nerves on fire; maybe it was adrenaline, but to Sakura it was the first time she was truly happy in years. Since Sasuke had used her for his own lustful release, since her friends had turned their backs on her, since all that she loved died and disappeared out of reach. The way the chains that kept her bound were released in those few moments and she fell with a dazzling grace. To her, none of it mattered as her laughter scattered throughout the city on a dancing midnight breeze. She was free and that was all that mattered, she had found her freedom and she was happy for a single moment that was etched forever in time.
Despite all the doubts, some things are certain. Like the way some things really are too much for someone to handle alone. Or the way that freedom was perhaps merely an illusion or happiness was just a flitting dream that sometimes decides to grace us with its presence. A mere brush of a smile painted on the hourglass of time and shifting sands. These doubts never bothered Sakura though, she'd found her freedom in that single moment and that's all that mattered.
So, despite the doubts that raged among the minds of Konoha's citizens about the suicide of young Haruno Sakura on the night of the 23rd of July, two weeks before the wedding of Uchiha Sasuke and Yamanaka Ino. None could forget the ringing mirth that sprang forth from her descending figure and that she had finally found her happiness. So when her funeral was held, perhaps that is why a certain message was carved upon her gravestone.
To the angel that gained her wings and finally found her freedom, may her unbridled spirit soar across the heavens and may peace rest upon her soul; our free blossom of the Leaf, Haruno Sakura.
For every petal of the cherry blossom deserves its chance to ride the waves of a midnight ocean and dance freely upon a northern wind.
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A/N: Had to get that out of my system. Lately I've been wondering if I should just quit fanfiction, it's not like I do much on here anyway. Tell me if I should up the rating for this to M, I'm not quite sure if T is enough, it seems to straddle the border between the two and I don't want to get into trouble.
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Reviews are always appreciated.
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Something Random: New Jersey has a spoon museum that has over 5,400 spoons from across the world.
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Rie-chan